


Atzeca

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Request Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake is the chief sacraficer for the temple and Adam is the man who makes the healing herbs. What happens when a special sacrafice is necessary to save the tribe from a massive drought? Falling asleep with the History Channel on is prone to give a man epic nightmares, that's what. (Partial Atzec Historical AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atzeca

**Author's Note:**

> This story is in response to a request sent into the Tumblr group Shevine Fan Fiction (shevinefanfic.tumblr.com) 
> 
> I would also like to thank my friend Krysta, who helped me figure out how to fill the request for a Aztec historical AU. I love a good challenge, but this one left me speechless. So many thanks to my partner in Shevine crime for helping me come up with a good storyline! :)

Blake stretched out on the couch and flicked around the   
channels. It was nice to be back in Oklahoma, even   
better to be back at home with Adam in tow. It was   
taking a little time for the LA native rock star to   
appreciate the country life, but he had to admit the   
change in pace was nice. Even if it meant not having   
many places to go, especially on a week night. 

Currently Adam was upstairs in the shower, washing off   
a day of dust and sweat. Blake had introduced him to   
the process of planting corn most of the day, and while   
the other man wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it, he   
was catching on pretty quickly. At this point, they   
were just glad to be together. As long as they were   
together, anything could be fun and exciting. That was   
part of what kept them both coming back for season   
after season of The Voice before their feelings for   
each other had come out. 

Now it was that delicate dance of blending their off   
show lives together as much as they could with the   
demands of their careers. They kept their personal   
lives fairly close to their chest, not wanting to come   
out and confirm what more and more people were   
beginning to suspect. Mostly out of fear for Blake's   
career. Rock stars had a lot more leeway than a country   
singer when it came to sexuality. 

 

Blake chuckled a little as he started to channel surf,   
wondering what the world would think to know he'd been   
the one to take that first step from flirting to an   
actual physical relationship. And he had been the one   
to ask for a commitment. That would really stand people   
on their heads, since they probably would think Adam   
persued him and wore him down. 

Funny how those things work, he thought to himself.   
Five years ago he never would've believed he would fall   
in love with another man and start a relationship that   
could make him lose everything else. But now he   
couldn't picture life any other way. And despite a   
little anxiety here and there about the impact to his   
career the relationship would have when it inevitably   
did come out, he was happier than he'd ever been in   
life. Or in love. 

He wished he could be happier with TV tonight, but   
there was no football, no NASCAR, no Golden Girls   
reruns and he didn't want to suffer through a House   
Hunters marathon. Blake thought the people on that show   
were a special kind of stupid. Why else wouldn't they   
realize if you didn't like the color of a room you   
could just go down to Wally Mart, buy a few gallons of   
paint and change it? 

Finally he settled on the History channel. Adam was   
slowly helping him expand his horizons, and this was   
one of the good things he'd discovered thanks to his   
boyfriend. All of this history and nature stuff was   
pretty cool. Too bad he couldn't say the same for   
sushi, which Blake's system had immediately rejected   
and reminded him where he came from people actually   
cooked their food first by putting him on the bathroom   
floor all night. 

At least now Adam decided to stop broaden Blake's   
horizons too much in the food department, though he'd   
noticed a lot more fruits and veggies finding their way   
into the fridge lately. That much Blake could deal   
with, especially in the name of love. And that green   
tea stuff was pretty good when you put honey in it.

On the TV, they were talking about the rites of human   
sacrafice in the old Aztec empire. Geography had never   
been Blake's strong suit, hell he could barely find his   
way around LA by himself, but he could appreciate the   
beauty of the grey stoned temples rising towards the   
sky. The human sacrafice thing was pretty intense,   
though....

 

....His father had been in charge of sacrafices, and   
his father before him. The job was passed down from   
father to son for generations, and two years ago it had   
become his turn to do the ritual. Sometimes the pledges   
begged and pleaded for their lives until the very   
moment the knife slit their throats. Other times they   
were resigned to their fate, knowing their blood was   
being spilt to save their people. Either way, he had to   
remain composed or the sacrafice wouldn't appease the   
gods. 

When he woke up that morning, he left his hut near the   
temple and the made the walk he did every morning after   
the first meal. The small hut was at the edge of the   
forest. The man who lived there was the son of a witch   
doctor and he made herbal remedies for the tribe. 

He didn't have to knock on the doorway of the hut, he   
was always welcome here. When he saw the man with his   
black hair and lean, muscluar frame he felt a shiver of   
happiness go through him. He had an important role in   
the tribe, a wife from a good family, and the hope of   
children someday to pass his sacred duties onto the   
first born son, but this was where he truly belonged.

The other man rose from where he was sitting on the   
floor grinding herbs, a smile crossing his face. He   
crossed the small space of the hut and pulled the   
curtain across the door for privacy. Then he wrapped   
his arms around his neck, pulling their bodies close   
together as their mouths met. 

The tribe was strictly against two men having relations   
with each other in the way they would with women. That   
didn't change the way he felt about the black haired   
man. That was how he always spoke of him in his mind,   
because speaking names was considered a sacred thing, his black haired, beautiful eyed lover. 

"They said there was a new sacrafice happening at   
sunset." The younger man asked as they laid together   
beside the fire after making love. "The drought has   
been going on for a long time."

"Only a special sacrafice will end it." He agreed   
softly, running his hand over the other man's smooth,   
bare back. "The entire fate of the village rests on   
this, I'm afraid."

"I'm glad I don't have to be there." His lover laid his   
head against his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

"Aren't you afraid someday it might be someone close to   
you?"

"I worry it will be my wife, my parents...but I know   
the sacrafices will happen." He frowned and closed his   
eyes a moment. "They would give their lives to save our   
people. I was raised that someday it would be my job to   
take them to keep us all alive."

"And if it was me?" 

His eyes opened and he bent to kiss the other man's   
black hair. "It will never be you. Your healing herbs   
are too valuable." 

The other man simply smiled and lifted his head to look   
at him. "I love you." One of his hands, always slightly   
stained from one herb or another, reached up to stroke   
his cheek lovingly. "Don't ever forget that. No matter   
what." 

He felt a lump rising of emotion rising in his throat,   
taking the hand stroking his face in one of his own   
much larger ones and kissing the back of it. He loved   
his wife, loved his family, but those loves were   
dwarfed by the love he felt for this man. This was the   
ultimate love for him, the precious kind that could   
only happen once in a lifetime. Or perhaps many   
lifetimes, if the tribal teachings were right. 

"I love you too." He whispered back and swallowed hard.   
"But everything is going to be alright. The rain will   
come, we'll have food for winter. You'll go on making   
the herbs and I'll go on making the sacrafices until   
we're old men who have sons to teach our trades."

The man with the black hair did not speak again and he   
was sure his lover had gone to sleep. He laid there for   
a long time just holding his lithe body close to his.   
He was shaken by the words he'd spoken, as if he   
anticipated something bad was about to happen. 

Eventually, around the time of the noon meal, they had   
to stir and dress again. He kissed his lover goodbye   
and went to the temple to prepare the altar for the   
sacrafice and say the prayers necessary. There were   
hours of prayers before the sacrafice could be brought   
into the temple. Sometimes it was tedious, and he   
couldn't dispell the feeling of unease, even though he   
knew he needed to concentrate and appeal to the gods to   
accept the sacrafice.

The day seemed to drag by, but thankfully they were in   
the time of the waning sun and the day was not as long   
as it could have been. As the sun hovered just above   
the horizon, he stood before the altar and sharpened   
the ritual knife that would be used to slit the throat   
of the sacrafice. It would be fast, the pain brief and   
hopefully the final thoughts would be that their life   
had ended so their people would continue to survive.

Once the sun sunk below the horizon, he stood at the   
altar and waited for the sacrafice to be lead into the   
room. There were no sounds of struggle. Given the   
severity of the drought, it didn't surprise him. They   
needed rain desperately or they would run out of food   
halfway through winter. The old and the very young were   
always the first to die off in such times, and sickness   
often spread through the village. 

The sacrafice was always lead into the altar room by one of the temple guards, leading the person by a rope   
attached to his or her bound hands. On either side of   
the sacrafice would be more guards with spears, and two   
more bringing up the rear. There was no escape. 

When he saw who was being lead into the room, it was   
everything he could do from wailing with grief.   
Suddenly the words his lover had spoken that morning   
made sense. Because the temple guards were leading in a   
black haired man, the one who made healing herbs for   
their tribe. 

The man was lead before him and made to kneel in front   
of the altar. They always gave them a last chance to   
say something. Instead of speaking, though, the man   
raised his beautiful hazel eyes for the last time and   
gave him a small, loving smile. 

"Don't ever forget." He whispered so lowly he was   
almost mouthing the words. 

It was that moment he knew that he was not going to be   
able to fulfill the duties that had been passed down   
from generation to generation, first born son to first   
born son in his family. He wouldn't have a first born   
son to teach the duties to either. Tonight there were   
going to be two sacrafices.

"Never." He mouthed back and raised the knife. But   
instead of cutting the other man's throat, he drew the   
blade across his wrists. The pain was hot and he knew   
the death would take much longer. But hopefully not so   
long he would have to see the love of his life die   
before his eyes. 

He fell to his knees and dropped the knife, his life's   
blood dripping onto the stone floor and slipping into   
the cracks. Tears ran down his face. He lifted his head   
and looked at his lover for the last time, seeing the   
tears in the other man's eyes as well. It wasn't   
supposed to end like this, but at least it would end   
with them together. 

One of the temple guards grabbed the knife from the   
floor, not worrying that the chief sacraficer was   
bleeding to death before their eyes. No matter what,   
the person who had been choosen to be given to the gods   
that night had to be delivered, or else the tribe would   
suffer. 

He felt his body shiver, getting lightheaded. The world   
tilted and he found himself on his side, watching as   
the guard pulled the black haired man's head back. And   
with all his strength left, he broke the last taboo and   
cried out the man's name as loudly as he could manage. 

"ADAM!"...

..."Whoa there!" A voice replied as the weight of a   
body crushed down on top of Blake. 

He jolted awake, but he couldn't move very far. His   
eyes popped open and he was sure he felt his heart stop   
when he saw Adam laying on his lap, a bemused smile on   
his beautiful face. 

"You...you're okay..." Blake stammered, feeling very   
disoriented.

"Yeah, but are you?" Adam sat up and looked into   
Blake's eyes. "You were having a bad dream when I came   
out here. When I got on the couch, you yelled at me,   
but I don't think you were awake yet."

Blake closed his eyes a moment, the final moments of   
his dream coming to him and making him shiver. The   
thought of losing his cocky, smart ass rock star every   
bit as oppressive and painful as it had been in that   
dream world. 

"No, I wasn't." He opened his eyes and pulled Adam into   
an almost fierce, desperate kiss. 

Adam returned the kiss with enthusiasm, then pulled   
back and looked at Blake apprasingly. "You sure you're   
okay?"

"Well, I'm not going to fall asleep again watching the   
History Channel." He smiled a little and nodded. "But   
I'm okay." 

He realized in that moment, as long as Adam was with   
him, he would always be okay. Even when everything   
eventually came to light, as all secrets must   
inevitably, he would be okay as long as they were   
together. Even if it meant the end of his career, the   
end of everything he knew, somehow it would work out. 

Reaching out, he traced his fingers lightly over Adam's   
face, his smile growing. "I'm alright now. More than   
alright, actually. Let's go to bed?" 

"Okay," Adam kissed him softly. "But I don't think I   
should let you go to sleep until we're sure you're done   
with nightmares for the night."

Blake laughed as he scooped Adam up into his arms and   
stood, the sound echoing in the big house. "Yes, I   
think you better do that."


End file.
